


the one celebration that can never end

by airbefore



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:30:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airbefore/pseuds/airbefore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s your half-birthday!” He announces it with verve, like she’s just won the lottery or a year’s supply of boxed food mixes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one celebration that can never end

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the extraordinary [](http://sparkles-mouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**sparkles_mouse**](http://sparkles-mouse.livejournal.com/) because, well, she's pretty freaking awesome. Unapologetically fluffy.

“Kate.”

She huffs, rolls to her side and burrows further into her warm and cozy cocoon.

“Kaaaaaate,” he sing-songs, dropping down on his elbow behind her. “Wake up.”

“Lemme sleep,” she pushes her face into the pillow, waves a hand at him. “Jus’ lemme sleep.”

Castle laughs as she pulls the comforter up over her head, trying to block out the harsh morning light, muffle his cheerful voice. He loves her like this. Sleepy and pliant, her body and lips loose. He leans over and tugs the comforter down, smiles at her groan of displeasure.

“You have to get up.” He drops his head, brushes his lips down her neck, across the curve of her shoulder. “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“Don’t care.” She shakes her upper body, tries to wiggle out from under him. He wraps a large hand around her waist, tugs her back up against his chest.

“But it’s an important day. A day for happiness and celebration.” He squeezes the hand on her waist and whispers into her ear, “Don’t you wanna celebrate this most wonderful of days with me, Beckett?”

Kate rolls her head in his direction, cracks one eye open to glare at him. “Unless it’s ‘Let Your Girlfriend Sleep in Peace Day’, I really don’t care, babe.” Closing her eye, she rolls away from him, flopping over onto her stomach.

“Aw, I love when you call me ‘babe’. It’s so cute and un-Becketty.”

“Shut up, Castle. Sleeping.”

He’s silent for a minute, lets her think she’s won. He knows he’s playing with fire but he’s determined to get her to join him in his reindeer games. The last three weeks at the precinct had been rough, full of late nights and early mornings, the lack of both suspects and evidence wearing them down past the point of tolerability. When they had finally closed the case and Castle caught sight of the date, he’d taken it as a sign. A perfect excuse to get her to relax and decompress, to enjoy herself.

And if he gets to annoy her a little along the way, so much the better.

“It’s not ‘Let Your Girlfriend Sleep in Peace Day’- ” she groans into the mattress at the sound of his voice , “ -though we should totally market that idea - it’s something infinitely better.” She’s quiet, unmoving. He leans over her back, kisses her bare shoulder. “Don’t you wanna know?”

Her silence stretches on, accompanied by the familiar hum of morning in the city. He’s pretty sure he could lie here and watch her while listening to the white noise of New York for the rest of his life. He’s also fairly certain that he’s a sap. He rests his chin on her shoulder blade, draws random patterns up and down the back of her arm with the tips of his fingers.

“Fine,” she sighs and he has to work to contain his victorious chuckle. “What day is it, Castle?”

“It’s your half-birthday!” He announces it with verve, like she’s just won the lottery or a year’s supply of boxed food mixes.

“My what?”

“Half-birthday.” He sits back on his side of the bed as she shifts, turns over to lay on her back. The look on her face is an adorable and intimidating combination of incredulity and confusion. “Your birthday is November seventeenth -”

“Yes, I’m aware.” She arches a brow, narrows her eyes.

“And today is May seventeenth,” he soldiers on, ignoring her interjection, “which is the midpoint between two November seventeenths therefore today is your half-birthday.” He finishes with flair, waving his hands in the air to illustrate the extreme awesomeness of his point.

She stares at him, eyes still soft with sleep, lips twitching with a smile she’s trying valiantly to suppress. He grins down at her, runs a hand through her hair.

“Seriously? You woke me up for this?”

“Yep.”

“Why?” He starts to respond but she presses a hand to his lips “And don’t say because it’s my half-birthday.”

“Because I wanted to celebrate -” He mumbles, lips brushing across the delicate skin of her fingers.

“Absolutely nothing?” She finally gives in, drops her hand, lets her smile break free.

“Beckett, have you really never enjoyed the pleasures of a half-birthday?” Castle lays back down, stretching his body out along the length of her side. He drags his fingers across the valley of skin that lays between the hems of her tank top and panties. Her breath hitches and she shakes her head. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re missing.”

He leans overs, grazes his lips slowly across the pale skin of her chest, sucks gently at her collar bone. “A half a dozen of your favorite flower.” She arches up into him as his mouth drifts over her breast, biting at her nipple through the soft cotton of her tank. “A half a cake.”

Castle rolls his body onto hers, nestles himself into the vee of her thighs. He meets her in a easy kiss, one of her hands resting gently on his chest while the other rises to thread through his hair.

“Hi.”

She whispers it into his cheek and his heart swells, flutters wildly inside its cage of bone. She’s warm and malleable under him, her body molded to fit his, and he wants to live in this moment.

“Hi.” He kisses her again, tongue sliding lazily along hers, his fingers skimming lightly over her cheeks. They lay together for a moment, silently taking comfort in the simple pleasure of one another’s presence.

Kate taps her finger against his breast bone, breaking him from his reverie.

“You were extolling the virtues of the half-birthday?”

“Right.” He kisses her smile, slides his hand gently through her hair where it splays across the pillow. “We could have half of a six course meal.” He trails wet kisses along her throat, bowing his body over hers to slide his lips along her sternum. She runs her hand across his chest, lightly twisting her fingers into the hair scattered there.

“So a regular three course meal, then?” She shivers when he drags his hand down to the hem of her shirt, dips his fingers underneath, scrapes his nails across her stomach.

“Or we could drink half a bottle of really good wine.” His hands roam aimlessly under her shirt, drawing maps and mazes across her smooth skin.

“We do that - _Oh_.” She gasps when he rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging firmly. “We do that on a fairly regular basis already.” She’s softly panting, her breath sweeping down the wide plane of his back as he lowers himself down her body.

“But the best part of the half-birthday, Beckett,” he whispers, his mouth hovering just above the waistband of her underwear. He drops his head, runs his tongue along the sharp line where elastic meets flesh, watches her skin prickle. “The best part has to be the half-birthday sex.”

Castle hooks his thumbs into the sides of her underwear, drags the pale blue cotton down her legs. He lays a series of hot, wet kisses along her abdomen, nestles his shoulders between her thighs.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to -” She stops abruptly when he runs his tongue along the length of her folds.

“Not expecting you to what, Kate?” He spreads her with two fingers, dips his tongue into the salty pool of arousal he finds. She moans and bends her knees, giving him better access. He looks up and catches her eye as he runs the flat of his tongue through her folds again, flicks the end against her clit.

“Half-orgasm,” she bites out, teeth clenched, hands fisting in the sheets.

Castle smiles against her and flicks his tongue again. Her hand flies to his head, fingers tangling painfully in his hair. He takes her fully in his mouth, rolling his tongue. Her hips buck up into him and he moans, works at her in earnest, lips and teeth and tongue. Her legs come over his shoulders, heels digging into the muscles of his back as she holds him to her, rides his mouth. He slips two fingers inside her, feels her clench and flutter around him. She’s chanting his name, her free hand kneading and squeezing her breasts.

He tears his mouth away from her, watches as she writhes against his fingers. His eyes dance back and forth from her face to where he’s buried inside of her. He curls his fingers, twists, and she arches off the bed, cursing his name into the still morning air. She’s half sitting, looking down at him with lust filled eyes, when he brings his mouth to her again, scrapes his teeth against her clit. She bucks against him desperately, eyes never straying from his. Slipping another finger into her, he sucks violently on her clit, feels her clamp down around him, watches the muscles in her stomach tense and contract as she shatters. Her eyes slam shut, body falling heavily back to the bed. He works her through it, bringing her gently down, until she tugs on his hair, nudges him up with her knees.

He crawls back up the bed and stretches out beside her, watches her body relax, melt into the mattress. Her skin is flushed and glistening, shirt askew, hair a tangled mass across the pillow.

“You’re beautiful.”

She smiles up at him, eyes soft and fuzzy. “Kiss me.”

He happily obliges, kisses her leisurely, gently. She hums against him, a contented sound that fills his chest, makes his heart sing.

“So, what’s next on the agenda, half-birthday girl?” He asks, hand cupping her face, thumb rubbing across her cheekbone.

She slides her eyes open, slow and dirty, grins.

“You.”


End file.
